


Breathless

by ImagineBeatles



Series: The Smut Haven (McLennon) [4]
Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Choking, Face-Fucking, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, it's not gay if you do it in the dark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:28:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28414653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImagineBeatles/pseuds/ImagineBeatles
Summary: John's voice had been rough and husky, broken after a good show, and Paul’s trousers had shrunk a few sizes.I want to fuck your mouth.
Relationships: John Lennon/Paul McCartney
Series: The Smut Haven (McLennon) [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1600165
Comments: 17
Kudos: 86





	Breathless

**Author's Note:**

> So... I had a mental breakdown back in August due to stress and other personal issues and needed to take a long break away from the internet. Thankfully, I'm doing a lot better now, but if you want to know more, you can look me up on tumblr (under the same username). I'm not _back _back, but this is the first fic I've written since then. I'm just writing whatever I want for now, but have not abandoned any of my other works, don't worry. Apparently I just needed to write some simple smut first. I didn't even mean to post this right now, but it just ended up working out that way.__
> 
> _  
> _I hope you all have had a good Christmas if you celebrate it and are doing alright. I love and appreciate you all a lot. I've missed writing and posting, and I hope to be able to get more writing done soon. If you want to talk to me, you can always find me on tumblr and message me there or leave an ask. <3__  
> 

Paul lay breathless on the bed as he watched John move around the room. He was barely more than a shadow, the darkness that surrounded them making it difficult to see. He was in the process of unbuttoning his shirt. That much Paul could see. Slipping the buttons through the holes and pushing the material from his shoulders. Paul could see the outline of his muscular arms, tensing and untensing as he moved, and Paul felt his dick twitch in his trousers at the sight. He swallowed thickly. 

He was lying sideways on the bed, his head hanging off the edge, still fully dressed in his Beatle suit. He was sweating slightly under the collar, which felt tight around his neck, and his palms were damp as he clutched at the sheets in anticipation for what was to come. His trousers felt tight — too tight — and his throat too dry. Paul doubted he’d be able to make a single sound if he tried to open his mouth. 

_ I want to fuck your mouth. _

That’s what John had said when they had gotten off stage, blood rushing through their veins at the adrenaline rush they always experienced after a particularly good gig, the fans still screaming behind them. John had grabbed him by his elbow and dragged him into a darkened corner, where he had pushed Paul against the wall and buried his face into his sweat-slick neck. He had looked at Paul then, hands grasping at his arms to hold him in place. His voice had been rough and husky, broken after a good show, and Paul’s trousers had shrunk a few sizes. 

_ I want to fuck your mouth.  _

Paul had nodded and John had kissed him. Softly. Thankful. 

It had taken Paul by surprise; the directness with which John had told him what he wanted, the roughness with which he had taken what he had needed, the desperate tone behind his words. Although it hadn’t been phrased as such, Paul had recognised John's words for what they were — a plea. And as much of a plea as he would ever get out of John. It had left him desperate too. 

And now here he was, lying on John’s bed, waiting, ready. His lips twitched and tingled. His tongue lay restless. He kept his head uncharacteristically still. Then, John approached. 

He didn’t turn on the lights. They never did, figuring it would make it less real if they could not see what they were doing. As if not being able to see made it any less queer to have a cock shoved down your throat. As if the darkness could hide their true desires. As if it could make either of them any less of a man in what they were doing. 

In the darkness they could hide. In the darkness they could pretend this wasn’t really about them. That it didn’t matter who they were. That they were just two bodies finding sexual gratification in each other. As if it didn’t matter they were Lennon and McCartney; John and Paul; them, together. They needed the darkness. Even if both of them knew it was all a big charade, they needed it. They needed it to allow themselves to give into it. 

John lay a hand on Paul’s cheek and Paul took in a sharp breath, allowing his body to relax into it. He was nervous; his heart was racing and his hands grasped at the bedsheets, fingers hooking into the fabric and releasing again over and over, as if unsure whether to hold on or let himself ride the waves of arousal that made him lean into John's electric touch. The man’s thumb stroked over his cheek before moving lower and finding his lips, gently pushing them apart before letting go. 

_ I want to fuck your mouth. _

Paul could hear the words echo in his mind. He let out a shaky breath in response. 

_ I want to fuck your mouth. _

Paul knew he shouldn’t want it, but his body longed for it. To feel John that deep inside of him, to taste him in his throat, to feel that hard velvety hotness slide down over his tongue and have his muscles constrict around it — to feel John push on regardless. And when he felt John’s thumb pry at his lips a second time, he parted them, sucking the first digit into his mouth. 

“Christ…” 

John’s voice was still breathy, but less rough now he’s had some water to drink and some time to rest. Still, it made Paul suck his finger in deeper, wanting more. He expected John to push in a second one, but instead he pulled back, sliding his wet finger over Paul’s lips in a way that could only be described as pornographic, wetting them for himself. 

John didn’t speak as he moved his hands to unbuckle his trousers and lower them enough to pull out his prick. Paul opened his eyes and looked up at him, lips parting as he caught sight of John’s dick, hard and heavy in the man’s hand. It looked big from this particular angle and Paul’s body buzzed with arousal, eyes running over it, stroking it almost. Behind it, John was looking down at him and although it was too dark to see John’s face properly, Paul could feel it when their eyes met. He wanted to reach out. To grab John by his hips and thighs to bring him in closer, to encourage him on, but something held him back. 

He opened his mouth a little wider as John gave his cock a couple of strokes, pulling it into full hardness before wrapping his fingers firmly around the base and angling it downwards, directly aiming it at Paul’s waiting mouth. 

“Do it,” Paul said, voice barely more than whisper, but in the darkness of the room it sounded crystal clear, undeniable, and John obeyed. 

“Oh fuck…”

Paul tried his best to let his mouth adjust as John pushed in, head first pushing against his wettened lips before sliding between them and into that hot mouth. He felt heavy on his tongue and the girth forced Paul to open his mouth wider. He unlocked his jaw and moved his tongue to rest against the warm and salty shaft, gently massaging as John pushed in further, sliding deeper and deeper. Paul could almost hear his name on John’s lips, breathy, heavy, needy. It made him want to smile, but he couldn’t.

_ Deeper,  _ Paul thought and John complied, pushing on as he kept his eyes directed at the man beneath him, taking his cock without complaint. 

Paul’s entire body buzzed as he felt John’s cock sliding further, a steady push, and when the head pressed at the entrance of his throat, he gagged but forced himself to stay in place. John, however, immediately eased off, pulling away as he pulled out, giving Paul room to breathe. 

“No. Please,” Paul breathed, looking up at John to see his own fire reflected in John’s eyes and for a second both of them wondered who this was really for. “Please.” 

Reaching behind himself, Paul put his hands on John’s thighs, gripping at the naked flesh and pulling John closer as he opened his mouth a little wider, searching for John’s cock with his mouth and humming contently as he found it, tongue coming out to curl around the head. John groaned as he pushed his cock back in, rougher this time, and Paul moaned as the head was pushed a little deeper. He squeezed John's thighs with his hands, giving him his okay, and the next time John pulled back, he thrust back in forcefully, pushing his cock deeper down Paul’s mouth and into his throat.

“Fuck…” John moaned as he felt himself push past the resistance and he repeated the action, savouring the way Paul’s throat constricted around him with each thrust. He laid his hand against Paul's cheek like he had done before, almost cradling it in reverence as he fucked Paul's mouth with slow, deliberate moves. The touch was soft and gentle and it made Paul hum in appreciation as he tried to relax and open his throat wider for the other man. He was still gagging, light gurgling sounds coming from his throat, but with each thrust it became a little easier as he learned not to fight it. He tried to keep his eyes open, but the tears that pricked behind his eyes made it difficult. 

When John pulled out a second time, a coat of thick saliva dripped from his erection, connecting it still to Paul's lips as the younger man coughed and tried to catch his breath. John's fingers were still at his face, caressing and tippling up and down with a soothing sweetness. 

"Okay?" He asked and Paul nodded, lifting a hand to wipe some of the spit from his mouth. 

John looked tough and hard as he towered above him, the outline of his body looking large and strong against the dim light of the night and it made Paul feel even stronger for it, more powerful to know he held that man in the palm of his hand. It made him want John more and with one last nod he opened his mouth again as he gave John's thigh another squeeze. 

John let his fingers slide over Paul's open mouth again, briefly dipping in, before grabbing his cock and shoving it back inside with the roughness that both of them craved. Paul choked around John's cock, his nails digging into John's flesh in retaliation and he had to close his eyes as tears began to well up in his eyes, rolling down his cheeks only to be wiped away by John's thumb. John himself groaned from deep in his chest, body shuddering at the feeling, his head cocking back as he began to move in and out of Paul's willing throat, pushing his cock all the way in until his balls touched Paul's cheeks.

"Fuck…" John groaned again and Paul had to agree. 

One of John's hands slid down from his face to his throat, fingers curling around it and Paul whined as he felt the extra pressure from outside, making it difficult to breathe. Thick spit gathered at the corners of mouth. He tried to swallow but couldn't and let out an ugly sound as John pressed down on his throat with the palm of his hand. 

Paul knew what John would be feeling: his own cock in Paul's throat, hard and unmistakable, making Paul's throat bulge as he forced it in and out, back and forth. He'd be able to feel the head, pushing; the shaft, filling him up. It was a surreal feeling, Paul knew. And when John gave his neck a proper squeeze, he gasped breathlessly as all air was temporarily cut off, making him choke.

"Fucking hell…" John moaned, and released his hold only to squeeze again. Paul felt himself getting light-headed at the lack of oxygen and somehow it only made it better. 

Again John pulled back to allow him to breathe, his hands still caressing Paul's face and Paul wondered how he looked as coughed and gasped for breath. John's eyes were on him, he could feel it, and when he opened his eyes, John let out another curse as he gave his cock a few pulls, jerking himself over Paul's face. He didn't say anything more and when Paul opened his mouth again, he thrusted right back in, causing more spit to drizzle down Paul's face as he tried to adjust to the intrusion. 

His own cock was painfully hard where it remained trapped into his trousers and Paul shifted his hips in the hope to get some relief from the rough material of his clothes. 

"Touch yourself," John said with the next thrust, clearly having seen what Paul had tried to do. "Touch yourself for me." 

There was a heat in John's voice that once again made them both wonder who this was actually for, and when Paul removed a hand from John's thigh to grasp at himself through his trousers, both of them moaned. 

Paul unbuttoned his trousers and slipped his hand inside, under the waistband of his underwear. His cock felt hard and hot. It twitched with eagerness as Paul wrapped his fingers around it, and he could feel it was already leaking, precum drizzling down from the head. It made the slide easier and his body buzzed as he gave himself a few strokes, moaning around John's cock as he felt the beginnings of an orgasm pulling at his stomach. 

“Beautiful.” 

Paul’s body tensed at the word, whispered in a breathy sigh, before his body relaxed into the mattress below him as an unusual warmth spread through his chest. It had been a slip up. They didn’t usually talk during sex. They’d curse and groan and ask if the other was okay with whatever they were doing, but they didn’t actually say anything. And they certainly didn’t whisper praises or anything that could give away what this actually was, that this was so much more than either of them was willing to admit to. 

It didn’t have to mean anything. It could just be that: a word uttered in a haze of lust and pleasure. It didn’t have to mean anything. 

Paul continued to stroke himself as John used his mouth, thrusts growing more and more erratic. They were both getting close. Paul could feel it, the way John’s cock twitched inside of him. He could taste the salty bitterness of John’s precum as it slid down his throat. It was an unpleasant taste but all the better for it. It made him want more. 

Closing his lips more tightly around the shaft of John’s cock, he worked John better, trying to swallow around him to give some extra stimulation, while his own hand quickened its movements. He focused on the sounds John was making, the breathy gasps, the soft moans, the deep grunts. He loved those sounds. He loved that voice, even if the man himself inexplicably tried to keep people from hearing its true quality when they were recording. It brought him closer. 

“Macca…” John moaned, and again Paul briefly tensed before he gave into it, letting the familiarity of the nickname wash over him and bathing in it, letting it fill him to his core. He hummed, giving John his okay. 

He could come. 

John’s movements sped up, groaning and grunting as Paul gagged around him, the noises of what they were doing filling the air around them, engulfing them almost in their own little bubble. John’s hands were still at his throat, feeling, pressing. They were gentle still, loving, and Paul wished he would choke him again. 

He could feel it was coming. John’s orgasm. He could feel the way John’s cock grew that tiny bit harder, the way his hips jerked at an increasingly irregular pace. He could hear the way John’s grunts turned into whines. Paul expected him to thrust in hard one last time as he spilled down his throat. He readied himself for it, preparing his body as his cock jerked at the prospect of it. 

“Christ,” John moaned and Paul’s eyes shot open as the man pulled out, his hand coming up to jerk himself off as the other moved from Paul’s neck to cradle the back of his head, fingers curling into his hair and pulling. He wanted to speak, to ask what John was doing, but his throat was slick with saliva, making it impossible for him to say a word as he coughed and fought to breathe. 

Either way he would have been too late, as John’s orgasm quickly overtook him and his cock erupted over Paul’s face, covering his already wet face with come. Paul jerked in surprise, feeling how the warm sticky substance hit his cheek, his left eye and his still open mouth. He could taste it on his tongue, a hint of it, and when John pushed his cock back between his lips, Paul eagerly rolled his tongue around the head, lapping off whatever he could get and swallowing it down. 

His own cock throbbed at the obscenity of it, of what John had done, and he only needed a couple of strokes more before he came too, hips jerking upwards into his fist as he cried out around the head of John’s cock. 

“Thank you,” someone said and it took Paul a moment before he realised it hadn’t been himself, but John. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you, chut, for reading this through for me first and being there for me. You're a wonderful friend and I love you a lot <3


End file.
